


Ravenous Illidari

by doitsuki



Series: The Illidad Chronicles [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Black Temple, Blood and Gore, Demons, Family, Food, Multi, No Sexual Content, Oneshot, demon hunter dad cares for his smols, f e e d t h e m, illidad, illidan and his three billion demon hunter children, meat - Freeform, surprisingly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 12:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8401345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doitsuki/pseuds/doitsuki
Summary: Sometimes the Illidari need to hunt with their Master's guidance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> illidad strikes again with love and care for his elven soldiers ;uuuu;

 

Illidan strode through the Black Temple with a clear head and a mood for spellcasting. Outland had no moon for him to draw power from, nor had he absorbed any souls lately, but he was still feeling strong. Through the training grounds he walked, hooves steady against the compact ground. It was the middle of the night and Supremus was asleep, meaning the demon hunters had to spar quietly lest they face his titanic wrath. Blades clashed and teeth were grit to prevent howls of rage and bloody murder from escaping. Exhilaration tingled in the air and bright fel magic zapped all around. Illidan wouldn’t have been able to sleep through any of this. It was just as well he chose to rest during the day – he loved to watch his children at work, growing stronger by the hour and learning to work with the demons inside them. Their social skills could use a bit of extra finesse, though. Illidan noticed a few demon hunters sitting around, watching tonight’s dinner (two Wrathguards) become mincemeat. The Lord of Outland approached, wings flexing slowly.

“You do not join the hunt?”

The demon hunters, a ragtag bunch of night elves and blood elves, peered up at him. Though their eye sockets were blindfolded and eyeballs nonexistent, it was an automatic behavior to tilt their heads in the direction of their Master. Illidan stared at their energy signatures and was shocked to find them all lacking. Not only were these demon hunters fatigued, they were less physically impressive than those still on their feet. Illidan crouched down, spreading his massive wings to shield these little ones from sight.

“What is the matter with you?”

A slender blood elf, too slender to be healthy, tapped his blunt felsteel daggers together. “Hungry…”

“For souls…” One of the others whispered. The group echoed _soulsssss…_ until Illidan shushed them.

“Then eat! There’s a demon right there-“

“Too strong.” An adolescent night elf with a pendant around his neck pointed weakly. “Hurts.”

“You can’t fight it? The others will help you.”

“They won’t.” said a nude demon hunter laying on his face. His horns were barely nubs protruding from his forehead. Illidan pitied him and scooped him up, finding him to weigh little more than a single warglaive. The demon hunter put a hand to his own chest. “Said we’re prey. They’ll eat us.”

Illidan wondered how any of his children could let their brethren become like this, those who survived the turning ritual clinging to life left to wither and die. Some came out empowered and maddened, ready to fight. Others… they were healed and given free reign over how best they chose to serve their Master. The very same Master who did not look disappointed, but rather concerned. He did not need eyebrows for that. Anyone with sense could understand the emotions spread across his face.

“How many of there are you?” asked Illidan, gathering as many Illidari as possible into his thick, muscular arms. Slits of green came into view as more crawled out of the shadows. These were the weak, the starving, the craven, yet Illidan believed them worthy of his service. Of life. There was to be no culling of his precious children, not when fate had turned against them and they could not fight their way back. He cursed himself silently for allowing any small number – and there were plenty here – to become demoralized, to need and remain unfulfilled. He stood, cradling six demon hunters close to his broad chest. A few clung to his shoulders and neck.

“Come,” he said. The slits, flaming eyes behind thin cloths, widened as hope bloomed. “I will feed you.”

The Illidari assumed Illidan would kill something for them and muttered to themselves, feeling unworthy of such compassion. But Illidan tossed his head to the side, horns nearly impaling the elf on his right shoulder, and barked out an incantation. A portal appeared, one to a chunk of black rock that formed an island on the edges of Outland. Illidan walked up to it and gestured with his wings.

“Those who can fight, come. Those who will wait, stay.” Very few approached, leading Illidan to continue. “Those who come get first picks.” A couple more wandered over, their weapons held loosely, swinging around as they idled. Illidan hoped they had the discipline of their stronger peers – surely watching them fight would instil some battle instincts in their bodies. He touched each of them with a shred of his own power, greenish yellow tendrils arcing from the top of his head to the demon hunters. At once they stood straighter and a couple who had hung back now stepped closer, wanting their Master’s strength too. Illidan gave to them what he thought was enough, and then stepped through the portal.

On the other side, the sky was a rippling violet curtain of arcane energy, nether-spawned imps clouding the air and flying away from Illidan the second he appeared. When the small army of Illidari came through, an imp raced towards the three demons gathered at the center of the island.

“Trouble!” it squeaked. “Nasty elfsies!”

“The fuck?” said the Terrorguard with a Wyrmtongue sandwich in his massive, clawed hands. “Where?”

The imp pointed and suddenly Illidan and his many, many children came into view.

“Oh, shit.” The Dreadlord, sitting beside the Terrorguard and weary from pouring his energy into their collective spell matrix, pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s dat boi.”

“Ain’t nobody got time for that.” The bright red Doomguard rose to his feet and gathered up the energy on the floor to create a portal, but Illidan cut through the growing tear in reality and smacked him in the face. At once the demon hunters swarmed, their inner beasts running on adrenaline and the fel energy that thickened in the nether-twisted air. Two blood elves, Mayo and his rejuvenated friend Belath, rushed to slice the Dreadlord’s ankles. While the Dreadlord beat at them with his wings and hands, other Illidari counterspelled his attempts at burning everyone alive. Illidan flapped around his head to keep him occupied for he knew how dangerous the Nathrezim could be. He shot bolts of energy into the demon’s face, turning this way and that to check on his children who were holding up nicely against the others. The Terrorguard had lost an arm and three Illidari had pinched his sandwich. Others flocked the Doomguard and pinned him to the ground, cutting up his wings and shrieking with delight as veins burst and blood flowed. They tore up their enemies with teeth and blades and claws and magic. Belath managed to wedge his glaive halfway through the Dreadlord’s groin and Mayo hacked at its neck over and over again. He and Illidan decapitated it, and they stared at each other for a minute as the Dreadlord fell. Mayo pounced on the corpse along with fifteen others, eager to taste the fresh meat. Illidan let them, before he sensed reinforcements somewhere in the distance. He got everyone back to the Black Temple safely with no casualties at all, the surprise ambush yielding three steaming dead demons. In the shadows and up against the wall where the others waited, Illidan sat. He arranged the demons on the floor and gestured to the weakest of his children.

“Go on.”

The Illidari clustered around their Master and the meal he had brought them. They noted the blood on the faces of their fellows and dug into the corpses, instincts urging them to absorb the various energies contained within. Others just hungered for flesh and ignored everything around them as they consumed. Those who had been training in the courtyard glanced towards the flurry of activity, but minded their own business at a silent command from Illidan. Some of the demon hunters had been wounded, and Illidan picked these ones up as if lifting kittens.

“You, stay still.” Illidan held a night elf in the crook of his arm and traced sigils of power around each cut and burn. The elf made various soft noises, clearly eager to get back into the leg he’d been chewing on. Illidan let him go after about ten seconds and worked on healing anyone else who required it. Then, someone called for his attention.

“Master!” Belath held up the Dreadlord’s black and green heart, offering it to him. “Here.”

Illidan stared for a moment before accepting it and biting into the acidic, tough flesh. Pride sank deep into his chest as he swallowed. His children respected him enough to offer the best part of any demon – the vessel that held the soul.

“I am grateful.” said Illidan, his voice low and rough. He noticed a few gazes upon him and shredded a piece of the heart with his sharp claws. “Here.” The demon hunters stole the little meaty bits and piled into Illidan’s lap, appreciative. Soon, nearly all of them were sitting on him and Illidan was more than happy to hold them close. With his wings wrapped around to protect them from the chill night air, Illidan healed, fed and relaxed. It was the closest he could ever be to peace.

**Author's Note:**

> in case you wonder: mayo is just my main character in warcraft lol all the illidari dank memes are with him :D he and Belath go do world quests together every day and i wanted to put a cameo ^^  
> writing illidad is f u n n nn nnn xD


End file.
